


Maybe the Real Treasure was The Hopeless Romantic Mysterious Nobleman we Made Along the Way

by BlackSun



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Halloween AU, Hunter Gérard Lacroix, M/M, Vampire Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, slight comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSun/pseuds/BlackSun
Summary: Life of a treasure hunter wasn’t quite lucrative as one might think the job sounded like. For one, not many people actually hid their treasures out in the open. For two, actually finding clues to where the treasures were for the one where people actually had hidden in the open was scarce at best, near non-existent at worst. For three, the thing you found and uncovered might not be treasures, after all. Or maybe something even worse.Or three times self-proclaimed treasure-hunter Gérard Lacroix uncovers one mysterious 'Mister Nobleman' Gabriel in increasingly weird circumstances.
Relationships: Gérard Lacroix & Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Maybe the Real Treasure was The Hopeless Romantic Mysterious Nobleman we Made Along the Way

In hindsight, Gérard should have walked away when he found a quite peculiar middle-aged man dressed like a noble whose hands were bound in chains connected to the wall in a suspicious underground dungeon in the middle of a forest a mile away from civilisation, but who somehow was still sitting quite comfortably, his legs spread-eagle on the floor and humming a nonsensical tune like he owned the place and not in jail. The seemingly-nobleman, despite the circumstances he was in, looked bewildered more than anything when Gérard approached the cells he was in.

“What—how did you get in here?” The seemingly-nobleman asked. Gérard gave the cell door a light push. It swayed open inside easily, its hinge creaking.

“The door was open?”

“Drat, I know. I mean. It _is_ open. It’s not unlocked. Argh, okay. _Why_ are you here?”

Gérard stepped into the cell and assessed the man more thoroughly. Although a bit disheveled, no question because of the condition the man was kept in, he _was_ dressed quite nobly, with white crumpled shirt made of silk, along with a dark outer coat made with quite a thick material that common folks wouldn’t easily be able to purchase, let alone fitted to his admittedly quite fit body. And also, there’s a stuck-up looking cravat around his neck, and only dumbass noblemen without self-awareness had such an egregious looking item on their possessions.

“My good sir, for someone who is currently chained to a wall, you don’t seem happy having someone actually come here with the intention to save you.”

“Yes. No. Never mind that, _how_ did you find me?”

“Fresh blood trails in the forest leading into this one creepy wooden door that in all-fairness is actually not hidden very well, now that I think about it. Is this that self-flagellation thing that’s been popular with those weirdos in the North? I mean, no offense if you’re into that, my good sir. Perfectly no judgment. I shall leave you alone for you to atone your sin or whatever.”

“You know what, I’m getting quite bored here anyway. Can you open these-,” the man shook his hands, rattling the chains around. “-for me? The key is on the table there.” The man gestured to a sad wooden table with half-rotten legs slumped at the corner of the jail cell. Gérard found the key on it, and unlocked the chains binding the man’s hands.

“You shall never speak of this,” Mister Nobleman quickly threatened after he had been freed, discreetly shoving two golden coins into Gérard’s hands. And then Mister Nobleman stalked into the night. ‘Stalked’ being a word to describe his half-gait, half-fuming stomps into the forest. In the future, when Gérard had known the man better, he would recognize it as his theatrically angry walk.

Life of a treasure hunter wasn’t quite lucrative as one might think the job sounded like. For one, not many people actually hid their treasures out in the open. For two, actually finding clues to where the treasures were for the one where people actually _had_ hidden in the open was scarce at best, near non-existent at worst. For three, the thing you found _and_ uncovered might not be treasures, after all. Or maybe something even worse.

That’s why Gérard wasn’t exactly surprised when he opened a brittle wooden coffin open with a considerable heave in the hope of finding hidden treasures, only to find Mister Nobleman posing in quite a seductive manner with a golden rose pinned between his lips. Mister Nobleman spat the rose onto his face and sputtered quite humorously in his casket.

“Do you know how rude it is to spit onto a stranger’s face?” Gerard said as he plucked the admittedly-quite-rare gold-colored rose from his face. Gerard noted it was also enchanted to never wilt, as he offered it daintily to the nobleman in the wooden coffin. The nobleman took back his rose angrily with a swipe of his hand, which disappeared into his cloak.

“We’ve met before.”

“Ah, yes! I seem to recall a distressed nobleman jailed in a dungeon whom I saved a few full moons ago. No offense, sir, but you seem to keep getting yourself into quite distressing situations.”

“ _Why are you in here._ ”

Gérard pulled out a small pamphlet from his pocket and read aloud, “‘ _Attention! To all treasure-seekers who search for the undead golden rose, seek for the mausoleum hidden by time…,’_ or so this announcement says.” He threw the paper behind him. “Very direct. Very public. Very theatrical exposure, too, however they did it, having these pamphlets be thrown from the night sky during the nearby village’s public hanging, but again, it’s not like I expected to find anything in the biggest mausoleum at a public cemetery abandoned only less than ten years ago because of giant rat infestations. That golden rose you have there could fetch quite a prize, though.”

“There was _a seal at the cemetery gate._ ”

“Don’t underestimate treasure-hunters too much, sir. We can be quite resourceful and relentless, you know.”

“Ugh. Yes. I know. Unlike someone.”

“Pardon?”

“Never mind,” Mister Nobleman sneered as he got up from the casket and brushed imaginary dust from his burgundy cape. He fumed and walked past Gérard with a stomp of his feet, before stopping in his tracks and turned around and shoved the golden rose forcefully at his chest.

“Go woo a lass or a lad or something, or sell it at the market, I don’t care, just-,”

“Not a word spoken of this, I know, I know,” Gérard smiled sweetly, pocketing the rose. This was still weird, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth now. “Safe travels, sir! I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“ _No, we won’t_ ,” he grumbled, and with the same half-gait, half-fuming stomps of his theatrically angry walk, he walked out of the mausoleum.

Gérard met him again, a week after.

All in all, it was quite romantic. The nearby village had reported strange occurences of bushes growing black roses leading to a dilapidated chapel, now rumored to be haunted. The funny (haunted) thing was, no one had planted rose bushes when it was still in use. it wasn’t enchanted at all when he arrived and tried to analyze it—-some fool actually grafted rose stems one by one to these bushes and called it a day. Points for hard work, though.

When Gérard entered the abandoned chapel, as it had been left by the local priest and masses as the roof had kept leaking whenever there’s rain, a path made by rose petals was presented to him at the center of the building, in between the half-broken pews already mouldy with age, leading him to the transept of the church. There, at the center, the unmistakable Mister Nobleman was laying on a relatively new stone tablet, with black roses strewn around his body and on the floor around the tablet. When Gérard took a peek, the man’s eyes shot up, irises flashing the color of blood, before he recognised him and groaned and covered his face with both of his hands and let out another long, suffering groan.

“Gods,” Mister Nobleman sighed through gritted teeth. “It’s _you_ again.”

“It’s me again,” Gérard grinned. “Has anyone ever told you that you have lovely eyes?”

It was how Gérard found himself and Mister Nobleman in a secluded corner of an admittedly quite busy tavern in the middle of the village, being served a hot meal and a cheap beer or two, courtesy of the man sitting indignantly in front of him, who had discreetly shoved five golden coins to the barmaid before telling her not to bother them.

“Are you not gonna ask anything?”

“Oh, _non,_ I’m perfectly content eating now. ‘Tis good. And, besides, I’ll hold off my line of questionings forever if it means you’ll treat me when we meet again in the future.”

“ _When,_ ” he grumbled.

“Our rendezvous has been quite charming, no? It keeps happening, like maybe it was fate!” Gérard laughed. “But, nah, who am I kidding, as long as you keep getting yourself stuck in a dingy dungeon or something, and then keep making a very public plea for help that you actually don’t need... Anyway! I’m Gérard, sir, Gérard Lacroix, pleased to meet you.”

Gérard extended his hand, and shot Mister Nobleman the most charming smile he used to woo young impressionable lassies. Mister Nobleman was not young, nor was he a lass, nor was he impressed, judging by the dark look he shot Gérard, but Mister Nobleman surprised him when his hand was taken with one very cold, very bloodless, and then shaken, not quite unkindly.

“Gabriel,” Mister Nobleman Gabriel replied, quite curtly. His hand lingered in their grasp, like he expected a question to finally rise up.

“No last name?”

“No,” he replied, now with a hint of mirth. He released his hand. “You are not surprised.”

“Ah, no. Kinda had a guess the second time. You know, casket and all. And also, not to be rude, but the-,” Gérard gestured towards Gabriel’s cloth. “-whole getup kinda gives a hint. Do try to be more subtle, sir. Don’t want to attract the wrong crowd.”

Gabriel smiled, “I attract the wrong crowd, all right.”

“Whatever do you mean, sir,” Gérard replied, feigning innocence. “Still, I have to ask, then. What’s with you getting yourself locked up in various situations where someone of your standings shouldn’t be?”

“It’s just a stupid game I do with someone who doesn’t even bother to play,” he sighed. “Why do I even bother setting this up for them.”

“A game,” Gérard said slowly, mulling the words in his tongue and his brain before it clicked. “You’re _roleplaying_ , as a _damsel in distress._ What, are they supposed to be your _knight in shining armor_?”

Oh, gods, they were, Gérard thought pitifully, as Mister (hopeless romantic) Nobleman was speechless, too embarrassed to talk.

“You seem to enjoy doing this, and any opponent of yours would no doubt at least see the sentiment, if not outright appreciating by partaking in it. Then, the problem is; they are a remarkably poor opponent if they keep getting beaten by a third-party. Did you at least tell them wherever you’re supposed to be in whatever scenario you concocted at the moment?”

“No, no, that defeats the point-, the point _is_ for it to be a _mystery_ ,” Gabriel replied quite indignantly, gesturing at the last word by splaying his hands outwards. “He said he was bored,” ( _‘Ha, it’s a him, after all,'_ Gérard thought,) “-so this was supposed to be something to pass the time, to entertain him. I told him to look for clues I hid, and find me somewhere where the clues lead, and _oh_ , oh gods, I forgot that dumb shit can’t even read a map, can’t even read the room, and only like the murder in _murder_ -mysteries.” Gabriel positively looked _horrified_ by the realisation. “ _Where is he searching for me, now._ ”

“The word is that to the south, several bandit camps specialising in supernatural creatures-trafficking have been ravaged by a supernatural occurrence called the red fog.”

“That’s not the fucking weather. It’s Jack. _Fuck_.”

“Some people can’t do with subtlety, I’m afraid. You’ll have to be direct with them,” Gérard offered, trying to ignore how this ‘Jack’ was apparently a literal force of nature.

“Ugh,” Gabriel’s head slammed onto the table, terrifying nearby patrons. He buried it in his hands, and kept grumbling.

“Last question before you go, sir, if you may.”

“What.”

“The first time I met you, was that your sex dungeon?”

The look on Gabriel’s face when his head shot up was _almost_ comical. “It’s _not_ a sex dungeon. It’s just _a_ dungeon.”

“A dungeon with the purpose to have sex with is a sex dungeon.” For a moment, his face looked a little more alive than usual, as leftover blood rushed into it. How cute.

“I was not-,”

“Don’t worry, sir, as I said, I don’t judge,” Gérard smiled sweetly as he rose from his seat and prepared his coat. He reached out and patted Gabriel on the shoulder. “Thank you for the meal.”

Gérard accompanied Gabriel to the front of the tavern, giving him small words of encouragement on the way, and also offering him (non-sexual) private lessons in the arts of courting and entertainment that would work better than roleplaying games. He declined with an amused shake of his head.

“Still, thank you again for the meal, and the room! Can’t believe you also paid for a three-days lodging. You think me, a treasure hunter, bereft of money as to pamper me so?”

“That ‘treasure hunter’ spiel doesn't work on me,” Gabriel smirked as he patted him on the right hip, right at the set of enchanted throwing knives Gérard had always hidden under his clothes. They were both silent for a while, eyes locking onto each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. But Gérard only smiled at the subtle threats, and the moment soon passed as Gabriel continued teasingly, “You’re _dirt poor._ ”

“Aah, I am found. Treasure-hunting isn’t quite the lucrative job people think it is. Alas, will I be seeing you again in more under dire circumstances, sir?”

“Ha, I don’t think you will.”

Severely doubt that, but still, “Good! Fare well, Gabriel, sir.”

“Wait, Lacroix.”

Gérard perked up just in time to catch a thing Gabriel had flicked with his finger. In the palm of his hand was a pin with a skull-like motif. The needle was sharp.

“If you ever need anything, flick the needle thrice and draw blood,” Gabriel commanded, and gave him a smirk that was almost kind, “Don’t sell that to anyone, now.” And finally, he did quite a large bow, then made a grand sweep with his dark cape, and his body dispersed into inky black smoke that flew into the night sky, towards the south.

Now that’s just a show-off.

A show-off to about ten-to-twenty peasant onlookers standing agape after seeing the unexpected supernatural spectacle.

Gérard sighed. He had a lot of explaining to do, then.

**Author's Note:**

> So! This one-shot story actually is from a larger Halloween AU universe that I have been writing for...2 years...more or less. I have a habit of not able to finish multi-chaptered works in the past, so I just don't bother posting WIPs anymore these days. But this story works despite, or maybe because, it was out-of-context with the rest of the story, so everyone can enjoy it for what it is while still providing glimpses to the rest of the larger universe. Are you guys interested in more bite-sized fics taking place in the same universe instead of one big main plot going? (Gérard has at least one more story centering around him) If not, I'll just go back to my quarantine cave and try to finish what I have.
> 
> Either way, thanks for reading!


End file.
